At the Cauldron’s Bottom

God gave you the spirit of fear
Bound you soundly to the trunk of the world
It's a rudiment of your mutilation
An ancient relic in your failing heart

Illogical horror
Massive hemorrhage
Harmonic silence
Where the barbs have dug in, where the nettles are latching
The wound of wounds
In the heart's clutch, held withstanding

Trumpeting ecstasy
Trumpeting ecstasy
Trumpeting ecstasy
Trumpeting ecstasy

But God gave you the spirit of fear!
Bound you tightly to the trunk of this Earth
It's a rudiment of your mutilation
A broken trinket in your ailing mind

Illogical horror
Trumpets blaring
Massive hemorrhage
Harmonic silence

Tepid muddied fountain swallows us with the rest of the dregs
At the cauldron's bottom, within the black vault
In an endless sea of black rote, we've lost, we've lost
Where the barbs have dug in, where the nettles are latching
The wound of wounds
We've lost, we're losing
When the trumpet sounds in ecstasy
The wound of wounds
We've lost, we're losing